Animus
by Payce D. Elui
Summary: The angels have fallen. Abaddon reigns as queen, and everyone knows that Winchesters only have one weakness. The cage will swing open once again, Abaddon will make sure of it. Story starts about 8 months after the series 8 finale. Genfic.


**Disclaimer:** '_Supernatural'_ _is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don't own this)._

**WARNINGS: Profanity, Spoilers for Supernatural series 1 through 8, and possibly 9, if I decide to carry this on- I really haven't decided yet.**

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**Animus**

By Payce D. Elui

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"_Whatever you do, you will always end up... here. No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, *we* will always end up... here."_

- Lucifer, 05x04 'The End'

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Let it never be said that Abaddon did not appreciate the finer things in life. A little wine here and a little lipstick there. Maybe a little murder or ten to spruce things up a spot from time to time when she felt things were getting dull. She was a woman of luxury, after all. A Knight of Hell, one of the first to ascend and handpicked by Lucifer himself; the only one strong enough- cunning enough- to survive the wrath of the Archangels. She was all that was left of an order that most demons now thought just a rumour.

They had forgotten just who they were dealing with- but she would have no qualms in reminding them. There was a time she commanded legions of them in Lucifer's name; that it had taken her almost five months of toil to carve up the bureaucratic mess that Crowley had made of the place was an insult. No matter- once they had realised that Crowley wouldn't be coming back- that he couldn't come back, they had fallen in line easily enough. She reigned now, and the time she'd spent rebuilding had been time spent wisely.

She had learned just what had manifested in the years she had been gone. The story of Azazel and the Winchesters. Of the Angels, of how hell had had both Winchester's in its grasp, yet failed to hang on to them. Of Lucifer's short-termed escape and the failed apocalypse. And just how Crowley had gone from a stupid little sales rep who wasn't even worth the air he breathed, to reigning as King of hell.

And then Abaddon learned of the cage. The cage that bound not only Lucifer, but the Archangel Michael. The cage that was locked by a key of four parts, and Abaddon had planned.

Death was not the only entity that had been able to make his way into the cage after the roof had been shut. If a lowly angel had been able to do it, if _Crowley_, that utter piece of _scum _had been able to do it...

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It was a long process, one that required months of planning, access to Crowley's personal library (he definitely wouldn't need it anymore) and the sacrifice of more than a few lesser demons, but it was done. She had been able to approach the cage, had been able to reach between the bars of flesh and blood and bone and darkness and light, and she had pulled and pulled, her nails digging through flesh and bone, and Michael had screeched in outrage, but Lucifer had laughed.

Grasping her prize by the roots of his hair, Abaddon turned from the prison.

"I'll be back for you, honey, don't you worry about _that." _

Michael roared and Lucifer laughed harder, and Abaddon strutted away, a smirk on her face and her new toy dragging along beside her.

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He was a waif of a boy. The hundreds of years he'd spent in the pit had not done him well. His soul was practically oozing out of welts in what was left of his husk of a body- the damage that he had taken had taken more power than she alone possessed, to heal. He was broken, unresponsive, pathetic. He would not speak- and she supposed that made him politer than his brothers, but she didn't like being ignored, and he paid for his silence.

He didn't need to speak to be able to scream, and he could only scream for so long before he was hers. She had not released him from the cage for the good of his health, after all.

Abaddon smiled.

The world was waiting.

The Winchesters were waiting.

Adam Milligan would come to be of use, yet.

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I know it's reaaaaally short.

I go through periods of Adam Milligan depression, have done ever since he first even appeared on the show. The way he isn't even bought up by his brothers despite what he went through for even being related to them makes me unreasonably angry. If the Winchesters won't get him out of hell, I sure as hell will. Though I'll probably torture him along with way, myself. There's a price for freedom, kid, I'm sorry.

Basically, I decided to try and write something constructive during this bout of depression, rather than just mope. Haven't decided whether or not to continue this or not, yet. I mean, I have vague ideas about where it could go, but I definitely won't be continuing this unless I have something concrete down in my head.

Apologies if any characterisation is wonky- I've never actually written Supernatural before- I don't even read it that much. Just started watching it again after like... a two and a half year break, actually.


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